Robert McNamara

Even as bones they were sublime, the sky-scraping brachyo- an brontosauri,tree-boned haunches, handfuls of arm-length claws,T. Rex with teeth uncountable as stars.In my mind, they were fleshed, they ripped and gnawed.Crossing Central Park at dusk, I'd seethe giants grazing still, the swaying treetopshiding some great nibbling head, and hearthem in the ground-juddering thunderas our subway shot like progress from the dark.Then swallowed us, like some great whale or ark.